


Allergies

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, Gap Filler, M/M, Romance, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-05
Updated: 2004-03-05
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: When the world isn't looking, Justin knows who his heart belongs to. Takes place early Season 3.





	Allergies

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Pairing: Ethan/Justin/Brian  
Timeline: Early S3 because I can't let it go.  
Thanks: To eleveninches and juteux for beta and everything else.

* * *

The first time he went back, he saw faces. The second time was for a missing sock. The third time he found a brand new sketchbook lying on the bedside table underneath the blue lights, in the exact same spot the old one was, and then he couldn’t stop.

The fourth time, in Justin’s defence, he really did need a new sketchbook. He could have just gone out to a store and bought himself a new one, like a normal person would, but he didn’t. Instead, he went back to the loft again, not unlike Hansel and Gretel in a fairytale gone wrong. 

That day back at Ethan’s place where he now called home, Justin made and remade their bed five plus five times, each time convinced that he’d get it right on the next try. And he scrubbed the flat from top to bottom, because this was now his mess and no one was there to stop him from cleaning it up. 

There was a fifth time, and there was an eighth time; he drew faster than ever, filling up those new sketchbooks for a reason to go back again, because he needs one. He wondered briefly if Brian was dating someone new, someone he buys sketchbooks for, and then he remembered sketchbooks don’t spell Love and that’s why he’d left. 

Not to mention Michael still greeted him at the diner every morning with, “What the fuck are you still doing here? Coffee and chocolate muffin to go and hurry up.” 

Maybe this was Brian’s way of filling Justin’s void with new things, but as far as he could recall, that was all Brian ever did in their little game he mistook for a relationship. Or perhaps Brian was simply replacing whatever was taken from him, and that made Justin angry enough to carry on this new game they had, because according to his rules, nobody said anything about getting replaced. 

Ethan didn’t arrange his clothes in the closet according to colour and thread count, and he couldn’t tell a pair of blue jeans from the next pair, mostly because his clothes never made it into the closet, and he only owned that one pair. Nothing ever got washed because everything was second to music, but for Justin he drew hearts with his talented fingers on dusty surfaces. 

Over a shared pizza of triple cheese and anchovies, Justin told Daphne about the dusty love sonnets he found next to his toothbrush every morning, and with a wistful smile he told her his love stories under moonlit skies, flickering candles, dirty knees, and leaking roofs. Daphne wrinkled up her nose but held her tongue and Justin looked a little sad so she caught on. 

“Maybe you’re over the honeymoon stage, you know? It’s a good thing!” she says and tries to be convinced enough for the both of them. 

Justin remembered the other reason why Brian will never have a Wolfram in the loft as he sneezed up a storm every morning, but he didn't tell Daphne that. 

The ninth time he went back, he left a note. _How are you?_

The next day, life went on as usual in this new world he created for himself, as he watched Brian at the diner out of the corners of his eyes. He imagined their eyes meeting and he imagined a nod that said, _I got your note_ , and when Brian paid for his meal and left without a backward glance, he imagined a sideway smile and a _Fine, thank you, how about you?_

That night, as Justin busied himself with tacking up his new drawings to cover up the cracks on Ethan’s living room walls, he received a call that said nothing. And they listened to each other breathe until his boyfriend came home. 

Ethan wrapped his arms around Justin and nuzzled his neck -- “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” -- and pulled Justin against his chest as they fall onto the lumpy couch, the way Justin’s parents used to do before he single-handedly destroyed the marriage for them, and tells him about his day. 

“You’re awfully quiet today, where did that dazzling smile of yours go?” he smiled and stretched himself comfortably next to Justin. 

“Nah, bad day at the diner, that’s all,” Justin replied and said nothing more. 

“I see you’ve been busy.” Ethan grinned and gestured towards the walls now covered with paintings. 

Justin shrugged. “Is that okay? I just wanted to—“ 

“Okay? It’s more than okay!” He shushed Justin with a kiss and dragged them both to their feet towards the bedroom door. “Your art, my music, and our love, we’re going places, trust me. As long as we’re together, we’d be unstoppable!” 

Justin smiled and kissed him back because he needed this right now, to hear the words loud and clear, to drown out the ones in his head. _It’s your call, where you want to be._

“Come on, I’ll play you a song, it’ll cheer you up,” said Ethan, because Ethan solved everything with music. Someone Justin once knew solved everything with sex. _Romance or reality; you decide._

That night, in the place he chose to be, making love on a creaky third hand bed, he closed his eyes to the crack in the wall and saw blue lights. 


End file.
